Scarlet Arrow
by Jez Redfern the Huntress
Summary: He's honest and straightforward. She's a liar and a deceiver. She's a murderer. He's her assassin. What is it about her that makes him freeze? She's nothing but a cold-hearted killer. Right? This is Clint and Natasha's story, right from the very beginning. After all, the arrow meant to end her life was scarlet... rated T to be very safe.
1. Chapter 1

"You called for me, sir?" Clint kept his tone polite as he leaned against the wall. His muscles burned and he felt fatigue sweep over him once more, as it had the whole trip to meet Fury. He had only just returned from a risky mission, and he was in no state to be sent on another-, which he suspected was the reason he had been called upon.

Nick Fury appraised him coolly and Clint met his one uncovered eye. The head of S.H.I.E.L.D was an imposing figure; what with his eye patch and his short, dour way of speaking, but Clint was not intimidated. He simply made good of his training, waiting and observing without comment. Fury finally cleared his throat and gesturing to walk. Despite the aching of his legs, Clint followed, longing to get this over with and rest. A hawk couldn't hunt without sleep, and Fury knew this. So, why had he been called in?

"Barton." Fury paused for a second, then resumed. "You're my best agent."

Clint dipped his head in acknowledgement of the compliment.

"I have a task for you to complete as swiftly as possible." Fury cut straight to the point, and Clint glanced at him in disbelief. "With all due respect, sir, I only just got back and I'm exhausted. You can't possibly think I'd be able to complete this mission with my normal level of effectiveness." He struggled with the urge to simply leave him there.

Fury's eye narrowed and his face tightened. "If I thought you couldn't handle it, I wouldn't have called you in. I don't like to waste time, especially when we have so little of it." Clint shrugged. "I don't know if I'm your man for this."

"Well, I know." Fury retorted, "and you are going to do this job for me, Barton."

Clint sighed in helpless frustration. "What's the job?" he asked, all businesslike, fighting off the waves of exhaustion threatening to blink him out of consciousness.

Fury smiled thinly. "Ever heard of Natalia Romanoff?"

Clint pursed his lips and shook his head wordlessly, waiting for Fury to continue.

"She's an assassin, a spy, and she's been proving quite pesky to S.H.I.E.L.D recently."

A flash of understanding illuminated Clint on the matter and he raised an eyebrow.

"You want me to wipe her out." He stated flatly, not asking, but confirming.

"Yes, I do. I want her eliminated." Fury agreed dourly, and Clint furrowed his brow.

"Why me? We have plenty of agents for this job."

"Yes, we do, but you're our best hope." Fury seemed to search for words. "We've been tracking the situation for a while now, and it's not looking good. There isn't much information on her- but somehow; she's extremely well trained and talented. She took out several of our best men without even batting an eyelash."

Clint grimaced. "And why do you want her killed? What has she done?"  
"Quite a few things, but she's a huge threat. She does any job for anyone, anywhere. I wouldn't mind if she wasn't so skilled, but she is, and she needs to be taken care of."

A simple arrow from far away would dispose of her easily enough, but Clint hesitated for a moment. "Where is she located?"

"Here, New York. We're tracking her, but she's very careful. We haven't been able to listen in to any of her phone calls, or get a glimpse of what she's doing here." Fury sounded displeased at this, and slightly impatient at Clint's intense drilling.

"Are you sure you don't want me to bring her back for questioning?" Clint asked quickly, and Fury's eyes flashed. "Are you questioning my decision? You have your orders, Barton, now carry them out!" his harsh tone eased up slightly. "Agent Coulson is waiting inside with her supposed location. He has quite a bit of information on who she is and how she operates, so make sure to listen carefully."

Disliking being ordered around like a simpleton, Clint unwillingly turned towards Agent Coulson's office. He paused when Fury added one last piece of advice.

"I've heard she's very pretty, Barton. Don't let that distract you."

* * *

**There you have it, my first Avengers fic. Please review, favorite and follow. Reviewers, assemble! ~Jez**


	2. Chapter 2

_Pain. So much of it. Scarlet bursts of agony piercing her consciousness. The world swimming before her, wails of terror ripping out of her clenched teeth. Blood running in rivulets from her broken ankles, the bones jutting out sickeningly. She sinks her knees uncomprehendingly, flames flickering just before her. She remembers preparing for death. She closes her eyes. The little girl huddled in a corner, her chin up in a classic pose of defiance, does not see the people advancing towards her. When she blacks out, the next thing she remembers is the voice._

_It's sweet, but sickening too, and she's scared of it. She's in a small, square room that is empty of anything, and the voice radiates from the walls. It seems kind, but she does not trust it. It tells her of HYDRA, and how she has been selected for special training. It purrs in a soothing voice, but the little girl asks of her parents. Her voice brightens a bit as she tells the voice they were secret agents too, brave ones. The voice deepens to a snarl, and the girl's face falls and she's trembling again as it scolds her. It informs her that her parents were traitors and had to be eliminated._

_She screams, and refuses to listen, and eventually the voice departs._

_But it comes the next day._

_And the next.  
And every day following. Eventually, the little girl begins to believe the constant lies fed to her. She softens to the voice. It sends her toys and little gifts that make her smile. And slowly, steadily, she begins to be trained._

_She's confused at first. She asks about her old room. She wonders where all of her toys and books went, whether she'll hear the 'Nice Voice' again. At first she won't train. She's scared; out of her comfort zone. But she's bright and has a deep sense of pride. She trains and learns rapidly. She grows from a small, chubby-face child, stumbling and tripping over this and that, to a beautiful woman with grace and power. Her eyes change. They no longer gleam with curiosity and enthusiasm, but rather with a cold, mocking stare- like her eyes are made of ice. When she reaches her full potential, she begins missions for HYDRA. They are her family; despite the cruelty and malice they show. They are the only ones who care what happens to her. They are all she has left._

_She still goes by Natasha Romanoff, but that's not who she is anymore. She's a weapon. A tool. And, to her, that's all she'll ever be._

* * *

Natasha felt a smirk creep across her face as she watched her target from the shadows. It had been all too easy to find him and plot how she was going to dispose of him. It was risky, being in New York, as she knew she held a rather unpleasant reputation there; but all in all, she had enjoyed the city. After all, this was the place she had earned her title from an opponent.

The Black Widow.

Natasha's lips twitched again, liking the way it sounded. Black widows were small, but deadly, just like her. Nobody escaped when she was after them.

Natasha remained motionless, as she had done for several hours. A quick flick of the eyes to view the sky showed her that it was nearly six o'clock, the end of her target's workday.

She tensed slightly and waited for the man to exit the building, laden with brief cases and papers as he always was. Natasha had been scouting for several days, and she knew her target's routine like the back of her hand. She was always careful to do her job thoroughly, a feat that she was quite proud of. But, to be perfectly honest, this man was not her real target. He was a fake, a cover- unfortunately, he would probably have to die anyways. Not that she minded. He had mildly irritated her earlier when he had walked straight into her, and Natasha had faked a cheerful smile and a cheery "it was my fault, not yours." She had been visualizing his death ever since that incident, and if the S.H.I.E.L.D agent got in the way of that, Natasha would be very angry.

But that didn't matter.

They'd told her about Hawkeye. They'd been careful to point out his deadliness. She knew everything about him that was within H.Y.D.R.A's knowledge-, which, surprisingly, was very little. It told her something about him, at least.

When Natasha was a little girl, her trainer, a tall, thin man named Clyde, had taught her all the ways to kill. She had been horrified, but oddly fascinated in a way that settled guilt into her heart. He'd smiled, a cruel twitch of the lips, and told her one day, she would enjoy the kill. She would learn to relish it as he did.

Perhaps that day had come.

Or maybe not. Killing gave Natasha a profound sense of satisfaction, but not joy. Not yet. She was sure it would come to her eventually, like everything else had.

She registered a flicker in the corner of her eye and moved instinctively, melting in with the crowd storming by. She ducked between a harassed-looking mother dealing with two screaming children and a man in casual clothes taking his time to observe the city. She was being paranoid, she knew, but that move could have saved life. And most people were not wearing dark black trench coats.

She kneeled, pretending to tie a shoelace as she observed him carefully. He was tall and lean, and handsome in a mysterious sort of way. Half of his face was hidden in deep shadow, but Natasha's tensed muscles relaxed and she rose. It wasn't an enemy; that she knew. She'd seen him before at base, and had regarded him with distaste. He spent too much time with words, making them elegant and perplexing. He dithered too much. Natasha could have taken him out easily before he could even finish his refined sentence. So she ignored him pointedly, even when he became aware of her presence and raised an eyebrow. The idiot was too easily distracted. He had his mission, and she had hers. Hopefully the their paths would not intersect. Natasha hated dealing with the lower class. She glanced again at the sky and groaned loudly, kicking the toe of her boot against the pavement in frustration. She had wasted ten whole minutes thinking about her dim-witted colleague, and her target was gone. She turned, muttering a few curses under her breath, not even bothering to check for her target. He was always pinpoint on time.

"Excuse me," the man to her left began.

"What?" Natasha snapped, spinning around and shooting a death glare his direction. He smiled slightly, the kind of _whatever, it doesn't bother me _smile that infuriated Natasha more than almost anything. She jerked her head to the side and watched him impatiently.

This man was… well, different. There was an air of confidence about him, and he wore a simple black shirt and pants, and there was a sort of backpack slung carelessly over his shoulder. He was still smiling, but the arrogance had faded slightly. "What's your name?" He asked, and Natasha's face tightened. "Who's asking?" She asked sharply.

"Me. My name's Clint." He stuck out a hand and grinned again. Natasha sucked in a sudden breath. Clint. Clint Barton. She should have realized. Her eyes fastened on his backpack- not a pack, a _bow. _She breathed deeply, in and out, preparing. Did he know who she was? It didn't seem very likely.

"Something wrong?" He asked innocently. Too innocently. Natasha growled in a distorted voice. "_Hawkeye_."

Shock flitted across his face at the fury in her voice, and his hands shot for his bow. Natasha was faster, reaching for it as well. Both of their hands locked on the deadly weapon and Natasha kicked at his kneecaps. He grunted in pain but stayed on his feet, and his tight grip didn't loosen. He twisted the blow sideways and punched her in the side; she huffed and pain exploded through her ribs. He ducked as she aimed a few blows at him, but her knuckles connected with the side of his head and aimed for his jaw. Clint was fast, incredibly so, and Natasha very nearly gasped in astonishment as he caught her hand and twisted it. There was a sickening crack as her hand broke, but Natasha was used to worse. Still, the hand was unusable, and to use her left would mean she'd give him access to the bow. That would be a big mistake, but she was running out of options. She shoved at him so he staggered a few steps back and released her hold on the bow. She had expected him to be surprised, but the bow just smoothly switched to his hands. He aimed at her, and the bold look of triumph in his eyes staggered her. Clint thought he had won? He was about to get a nasty surprise. He may be an amazing aim, but if people got in the way, he would not shoot. S.H.I.E.L.D was weak in that sense. Feeble and pathetic.

So Natasha did what she was best at. She hid. She mingled between people, hiding herself from sight. Even if he did spot her, she would use somebody as bait. The battle was hers.

* * *

**Longer chapter than the first. All chapters will be like this- sorry about the short first one, just needed something for this story to get started with. Next chapter will be up within a couple of days. Please, favorite, follow, and REVIEW! ~Jez**


	3. Chapter 3

All of Clint's senses were screaming danger at him. He raised his bow higher and scanned the crowd milling around him. In another part of his brain, he was amused at how people were not screaming and running. Then again, this _was _New York. They'd probably already seen it all. But all other aspects of his brain were switched off currently. He was not Clint Barton. He was just Hawkeye, the hunter.

And his prey had disappeared. That was new, and in a way, he savored the challenge. Natasha really was like Fury had told him- highly skilled and slippery as a snake. Most spies would have held out barely a minute against him. And she was clever, too… if Clint was being pursued, he'd slip into a crowd as well. It was the most logical thing to do; and that was her, cold and callous. At least, what she seemed like.

There were her eyes. He'd registered it immediately. They were cold, but somehow beautiful, like a frozen star. And the way she held herself, proud and haughty. Everything about Natasha cried 'do not mess with'

That was why Clint had messed with her. Fury would have wanted him to just end it, but the man saw everything in black and white. Clint had wanted to see what Natasha would do. Would she attempt to murder him for disturbing him?

It had been interesting watching her realize who he was. Anyone else would have shown signs of shock, even fear. But she had only tensed, as if preparing for a blow, and her eyes had grown harder. When she had spat out his nickname like poison, he'd been surprised. Why did she seem to hate him with a passion?

"Barton, report." Fury said tersely through the earpiece Clint wore. Clint frowned. "Report. There, done."

"I'm being dead serious, Agent Barton. There is no time for your jokes." Fury's voice was annoyed, and Clint allowed himself a wry smile. "Commander Fury, with all due respect, you're right, there is no time. So why are we discussing this?"

There was a silence as Fury processed this, and when he finally replied, he did not sound amused. "Just get the job done." He said in a clipped voice, and abruptly ended the connection. Clint smirked again and resumed scanning the crowd for any sign of her. Even a flash of flame-bright hair would alert him to her presence, and he sensed she knew that. So he kept quiet and stealthy, assuming she'd still be within the crowd. She was a spy, after all, not a true fighter, despite her skills. Hiding was her second nature.

That's why he didn't see her attack him from behind.

If Clint hadn't been trained to react quickly, he certainly would have been dead. She held a small dagger in her hand, and by her poisonous smile he noted it was meant to pierce his heart.

"You know the first thing my trainer taught me?" Natasha asked calmly, circling him. "Humor me." Clint replied, deadpan, and she shot him a malevolent sneer. "The exact place to stab on a man's back to snap his spine and pierce his heart."

"That's a surprise," Clint said. "Because I learned that too." Without waiting for a response, he slid a traditional arrow out of his quiver and positioned it on the bow. He cocked his head, feeling a spurt of arrogance. "Only I don't need to be close up to do it."

Natasha considered this as the seconds trickled by. Then she threw her dagger.

Clint nailed it out of the air with his arrow, and twisted aside as Natasha lunged for him, flicking another dagger out of her sleeve. She slashed with an elegant sort of grace at his arm, and though Clint moved, he wasn't fast enough. A large gash marked his arm, blood streaming steadily out of it. He cursed and grasped at his bow.

It was gone.

In a panic, he scrabbled around for his sheath of arrows or his secondary bow, but both were missing. Natasha's lips twitched.

Clint gave her a reluctant grin, and moved closer. "You're good, I'll give you that." He conceded, and Natasha's pronounced smirk grew wider. "Thank you. It pleases me when an opponent acknowledges their defeat."

Clint's eyebrows shot up. "Since when did I acknowledge my 'defeat'? You obviously didn't hear what I heard."  
"And you heard what, exactly?" Natasha asked mockingly, barely three inches away from him. "Oh, nothing much." Clint said casually, reaching up to scratch his head. "Just that you made a mistake."

Natasha's nostrils flared. "What mista~"

He barreled towards her, pulling two long knives out of his jacket. With one swift move, he had pinned her to the ground. The knives sliced easily through the sleeves of her shirt and sunk into the ground. Natasha writhed and spat in Russian. Clint watched her emotionlessly, and eventually she grew very still. "So the archer defeats the enemy with a dagger." She said quietly. "История достойна легенд."

Clint shrugged. "I did what I had to in order to defeat you. But it was a worthy fight. Where did you learn to fight like that?" He obviously wasn't expecting a straight answer from the ill-fated assassin, and when she replied a flicker of astonishment shot through him. "H.Y.D.R.A. They've been training me since I was very young."

"I noticed. Otherwise you'd already been dead." Clint replied wryly.

"You don't _know _anything." Natasha's chest rose and fell very quickly, and she was glaring at him with hatred again.

"Why do you do that?" Clint asked curiously, and Natasha's eyes narrowed to slits. "Do what?"

"It doesn't matter." Clint decided, and Natasha shot him a look of disgust. "I'm about to die, _Clint Barton._ You might as well give me some answers."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Let Romanoff up." The words spoken were elegant and refined, and Clint swiveled slowly.

He was tall and lean, with long blonde hair and a hard-set face. Icy blue eyes stared coolly at him, flicking quickly to Natasha. Clint had seen him earlier, but had assumed he was just another civilian. His senses had failed him this time.

More importantly than the man, a girl, seven or eight, stood beside him. She was hunched over, and tears streaked her terrified face. That was when Clint noticed that the man was pressing a gun to the back of her head.

* * *

**Ugh, that chapter was hard to write. Anyways, this little scene will wrap up next chapter, and we'll see Agent Coulson again- YAY! Thanks for reading, and please favorite, follow, and review! ~Jez**


	4. Chapter 4

**VERY short chapter today, folks, sorry about that, I'm overloaded with lots of work. Next one will be longer, I promise. It will be a SHIELD-tastic chapter, full to the brim of Nick Fury, Phil Coulson, and Agent Hill, as well as a hint of Tony Stark, though he won't feature till much much later in the story. this was a very thought-centric chapter, with not much action, to make up for the action packed previous chapter (for all you thought and dialogue lovers like me) Anyways, enjoy the chapter! ~Jez**

* * *

Before that day, Natasha Romanoff had thought that she was ready for death. She'd always visualized laughing in the face of her demise, being bold and daring and calm like she always was.

Now, with death staring her directly, all she could think of was how she did not wish for her life to end.

_I don't want to die._

Her demise, however, seemed quite certain. Natasha felt a flare of resentment as she looked up at her killer. What right did he have to kill Natasha Romanoff?

But he didn't seem to be enjoying it as Natasha had assumed he would. Instead his lips were pressed tightly together and he was fiddling unconsciously with the dagger held above her. She projected all the hate she could into her gaze, and he flinched back slightly, his brow furrowing. "Why do you do that?" he asked slowly in uncertainty.

"Do what?" Natasha replied haughtily, and a brooding frown seemed to enclose his face. "Never mind."

Curiosity pricked Natasha, and she twisted her face at him in what she hoped was a demanding expression. "I'm about to die, Clint Barton." She spat at him, her venomous words injected with interest. "You might as well give me some answers."

"I don't know about that. Let Romanoff up."

Natasha knew instantly who it was, and she groaned inwardly. "Idiot," she muttered in frustration. "You're just going to get us both killed."

Jacques Smith looked slightly offended at this, and swelled like an angry goose. "I could just leave you here to die, Romanoff." He spoke irritably. "Do remember that."  
"But you won't." Natasha said confidently, smiling thinly. "I don't think our bosses would be very pleased if they heard you even considered leaving their best agent to die."

Smith swallowed visibly, and he emitted a light laugh, his eyes darting to Clint. "You wouldn't tell them." He said, with an attempt at being assertive.

"Try me." Natasha felt some normality seep back into her life. This was routine. Her, deadly and merciless. The weaker person cowering from her.

"I'll let her up. There's no need to be hasty." Clint said warily, and Natasha looked at him in alarm. Was it a trick? Barton would never give up that easily.

"Good choice." Smith said pleasantly, switching his stance slightly as Clint drew away from Natasha. She stood up, brushing bits of gravel and dirt off of her, and gave an appreciative nod to Smith. He grinned cockily. "Now, what shall we do with her?"

Natasha's head snapped around. Her lips parted in an O of surprise that she hadn't noticed the little figure trembling beside Smith. Or the gun he had pressed to her head.  
So that was why Barton had given up so easily.

Natasha couldn't decide whether she considered that an honorable or a weak response. Before, she would have scoffed and easily called it an act of a weak, toothless coward. But she had seen the courage and strength burning in Clint's eyes. He was many things, but a coward was, with the utmost certainty, not one of them.

Natasha was an expert at reading people, and she could tell that Smith was going to kill the girl for no reason whatsoever. There was no reason to, but there was also no reason not to, as they had been taught in training. And Smith himself, despite his stupidity, was actually quite ruthless and deadly. So why didn't she let him dispose of the girl, and then after, Agent Barton of S.H.I.E.L.D? Why did she care anything about the girl?'

Perhaps Natasha was just having a weak moment. Perhaps her head was confused due to the blows it had suffered earlier. Or perhaps it was because the little girl looked just like she had at that age.

She was too young. Too young to be torn away from her family, too young to have her life ripped apart. Natasha had never had a chance. But this little girl did.

"I let her go. Just leave the child alone." Clint said urgently, taking a step forward. Smith sneered. "Big mistake."

The gun fired.


	5. Chapter 5

**I know, my update is VERY late! Sorry, for that I've made it longer than I intended it to be. Please read and review! Thanks as always! ~Jez**

* * *

Nick Fury was fuming visibly as he stalked down the hallway, his hands curled into fists. Maria Hill trailed after him, her expression slightly anxious. "Don't do anything stupid." She warned him, and Fury swung around to glare at her through narrowed eyes. "Since when have I ever done anything stupid?" He demanded. "I just clean up the mess when _other _people do stupid things. That's what I'm doing right now."

He swept into the room ahead of him, throwing open the door and if it wasn't for Maria's quick reflexes, she would be sporting a bloody nose on account of the door bouncing on it's hinges. She sighed through her nose and followed him into the prison room at him impatient command.

Fury was quite proud of the prison room that had been added recently to S.H.I.E.L.D's base. It had been developed when the Doctor Banner problem had risen abruptly, and despite the intense security of the room, he still wasn't certain it would hold Banner. But, for now, it would do its job properly. Natasha Romanoff, despite her endowed skill set, was no match for the room. His lips thinned into a brief smile, then immediately pressed together in a grim line once again. There was nothing to be smiling about currently. His best agent had showed a sentimental streak whilst on a vital mission and had failed to dispose of a significant threat. Instead he had brought her back, limp and bedraggled, with a defiant look gleaming in her green eyes.

Fury had been… well, furious. His confrontation with Clint had been infuriating- the archer had refused to acknowledge his failure in the slightest manner.

_"You realize I should punish you for this." Fury said flatly, obviously attempting to keep cool. Clint smirked unperturbedly, placing Natasha's file deliberately on his bed. He then rose. "Are you going to spank me and send me to bed without supper?"_

_Fury ignored the mocking jibe and folded his hands together. "What are we supposed to do with Romanoff now?" He asked sharply, beginning to pace around the room._

_There was a silence as both men thought about this. "Not kill her." Clint said finally, and he locked eyes with his boss. "You don't want to kill her."_

_ "Why not?" Fury demanded, pausing for a moment. "I'm almost positive she'd have no problem with killing us if she got loose."_

_"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Clint warned him, eyeing Natasha's file once again. "She's not exactly the heartless murderer you made her out to be."_

_"She's not all fluffy bunnies and rainbows either. She's dangerous." Fury spat out._

_"So now we just eliminate all potential threats? I observed Natasha and concluded there was no need to kill her. What do you want me to do, follow your orders blindly?"_

_"That wasn't your call to make, Barton." Fury's voice shifted into a snap, and his carefully twined hands tensed. "It was S.H.I.E.L.D's call, and you defied direct orders. The ambassadors would want me to compromise you."_

_"Do it, then." Clint said in cynical amusement. "Get rid of your best agent."_

_Fury paused, glaring at him. "You know I dislike taking orders from those stuffy fools." He said carefully, "but continue to speak and you'll find yourself out on the streets."_

_Even Clint couldn't doubt his sincerity, and he sat down on his bed. "Don't kill her. You have to trust my judgment on this." _

_"How can I trust you if you won't tell me anything?" Fury asked harshly, frustration dancing in his eyes. Clint shrugged, closing his eyes, and saying no more._

_Vexed, Fury turned and stalked from the room. He pressed his comlink button._

_"Sir?" Maria Hill's intellectual voice rang out. "Is there something you need?"_

_"Get up here, now." Ordered Fury, his foot tapping impatiently on the hard floor. "We're going to meet Ms. Romanoff."_

**OOooOO**

"So. You've decided to kill me, then." Natasha spoke smoothly, her eyes not leaving the ground as the doors hissed open. Fury laughed humorlessly. "I'd have thought highly trained agents like you knew better than to assume."

"Highly trained agents like me also know not to deny the truth." Natasha retorted. "I'm a risk to you here, and you must know I'll never give you any information. So why keep me alive?"

"We don't just kill people who aren't of use." Maria Hill said, stung, and Fury gestured at her to be quiet. She fell silent, but watched Natasha with wary eyes.

"You could be of some use to us." Fury conceded, and Natasha raised her head. "If you want me to give information on my employers, I can't. I know as much as you do."

"That's not what I meant. You're skilled, and Agent Barton seems to have grown slightly…" he paused and left the sentence hanging, observing Natasha for a reaction, but he didn't learn anything. The woman, he had to admit, was very good.

"Well, he seems to be slightly fond of you, Romanoff." He finished, and Maria jerked her head up to stare at him in shock. Fury regretted not informing her earlier and simply shot her a sideways glance. Her mouth, slightly agape, snapped closed immediately and her face became carefully neutral.

"I can't imagine why." Natasha responded frigidly, curling herself into a more comfortable position on the ground. "I tried to kill him. That doesn't usually represent friendship."

"Really." Fury responded, with an expression of skepticism. "In any case, I'd like to know what went on earlier today."

"And why should I tell you anything?" Natasha raised an eyebrow, and the lines on Fury's face deepened. He paused for a moment, finding the words to say, and his jaw hardened. "You don't have to tell me anything, but it would certainly help your predicament."

"My predicament? Is this a trade?" Natasha spoke slickly, and her lips quivered in amusement. "My freedom for information?"

"That is not going to happen." Fury said brazenly, fixing his one good eye on her. "I just think it would benefit you greatly."

An awkward silence stretched between them as Natasha appeared to contemplate his words. She tilted her head slightly, an absent smile still playing on her lips. As the seconds strained by, Fury let out a deep breath. "Hill. Let's go. We have things to deal with that are more important than an indecisive spy." His lip curled at the murderer sitting before him and he turned regally away. Relief crossed Maria's face before her expression smoothed and became blank. "Sir."

"Wait." Natasha said quickly, rising to her feet and taking a careful step towards Fury. Feeling triumph expand inside him, Fury halted and turned to give Natasha a searching look. "Yes?"

"I..." She stammered hesitantly. "I can tell you what happened when Barton was sent to kill me."

"I'm listening." Fury spoke shortly, impatiently.

Natasha opened her mouth. "It started when Smith decided to kill the girl…"

_Smith leered as Barton stepped forwards, his gaze guarded and his hands held out for the girl, but Natasha knew that he would never reach her in time. Smith's finger tightened on the trigger. "Wrong move." He gloated, and Natasha didn't think, she just moved. Later, she'd scold herself for recklessness, for the chance she took for one child, but in the moment her blood roared and she grasped at Smith._

_She broke his wrist in one quick movement and the sickening crack was drowned out by the deafening gunshot. Smith stared at her with wild eyes that slowly drained of all emotion as the bullet buried itself into his chest. Natasha knew instantly it had pierced a vital organ by the way his breathing increased violently and his hands scraped feebly at his chest. She watched without sentiment as he crumpled to the ground with no grace and turned away, biting down hard on her lip. She would pay for that later, but all in all, the man himself had not been much use to H.Y.D.R.A. She was almost certain they had been planning to dispose of him sooner or later anyways, and she felt no guilt for saving the girl with the long auburn hair. She turned to her, knelt down and whispered what she hoped were soothing words. "I'm sorry that had to happen. Go find your family."_

_The girl stared at her with wide eyes and spoke through numb lips. "Thank you." _

_Natasha didn't respond as the girl scurried off and she dusted off her hands. She hadn't forgotten Clint Barton standing uncertainly behind her, the bow hanging limply in his hands. "Why did you save her and kill your friend?" He asked quietly._

_"He wasn't my friend. I disliked him, in fact." Natasha said instantly, face reddening. _

_"Yes, but you killed him to save the little girl. Why?"_

_"I'm not noble, Barton, or a hero, so remember that." Her tone was sharp, and Clint squinted at her. "I never said you were. Nobody's a hero all the time, but everyone has their moments."_

_Natasha was silent, glaring resentfully at the archer before her. "Is that supposed to be wise?" She bit out, sarcasm marring her words._

_"No. It's supposed to be true." Clint said simply. "Are you going to fight some more?"_

_Natasha snorted. "Of course not. Kill me."_

_She waited, but her death did not come. Blackness did not wash over her like a wave._

_She blinked. "What are you waiting for?" She snapped._

_"I don't think I'm going to kill you today." Mused Clint, shouldering his blow, and confusion spread through Natasha. "Why not?"  
"Because you're not the heartless killer Fury made you out to be." Clint said finally, meeting Natasha's gaze steadily. _

_"That's enough." _


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi! It's Jez here. Hello. Hi. How's life? Mine's busy. REALLY REALLY REALLY busy. At school the work's being piled on heavily, and I simply don't have time to update regularly. This story's not on hold, but you can expect chapters very sparingly- I tried to do one every day, but I need to keep my grades up. SO. Maybe a chapter every weekend? Don't quote me on this, it depends how much work I have! review, favorite, follow, update, blah, bye! ~Jez P.S: You guys see the Iron Man 3 trailer? EPPPIIiCCCCC. **

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Clint leaned over the rail, watching Natasha intently. Her moves were as smooth and agile as ever as she dodged the multiple exercise trainers attacking her. It was obvious who was going to win before the fight had even started- the trainers were older, and had more practice, but Natasha had the right amount of natural talent combined with intelligence to take them out without even ruffling a hair on her head. Clint knew from experience.

As Natasha brought down the third trainer onto the floor, the last stood up from where he had been sheltering himself from her blows. Lines of frustration were etched deeply into the stocky man's face as he circled her. His eyes were wary as he attempted to analyze her next move, but like everyone else, he was wrong as he barreled towards her. Almost scoffing in contempt, Natasha did a perfect flip over him and the man crashed to the floor. Natasha kicked him from behind to make sure he stayed down, and then turned to meet Clint's eyes. He gave her a nod and got a barely perceptible one in return.

"Agent Barton?" Clint had been aware of agent Phil Coulson approaching from behind him, but didn't tear his eyes away from the training scene below. "I keep telling you to just call me Clint." He commented dryly as Natasha got to work on the punching bags.

"I know. Sorry. The boss wants me to try being professional." Phil said apologetically, and Clint turned to shake his hand. "I figured."

"You got my message, then?"

"Yes, Hill made sure of that. She has a very loud voice." Clint grimaced, rubbing at his ears.

"You weren't answering your comlink." Phil pointed out reasonably.

"Is that what you're going to tell Fury when he loses his best agent because he can't hear anything?" Clint asked him, deadpan, and Phil's lips twitched in amusement. "You don't have to worry. I'll be the one filling out a mountain of paperwork."

Clint didn't reply. He had turned to watch Natasha train again, and his hands gripped the rail so tightly his knuckles turned white. He pulled an arrow out of his quiver instinctively, and then slid it back into place. "Why me?"  
"Why were you asked to supervise Natasha's training?" Phil asked ruefully, as if he had known the conversation would steer that way. Clint nodded neutrally, and Phil gave him another contrite, slightly awkward smile. "You've been studying her file for so long you must know it by heart. And you've faced her before; you know her better than us."

"What about me being the best agent in S.H.I.E.L.D?" Clint asked sardonically and Phil raised an eyebrow. "You know, once, people were humble."

"Once people also believed the Earth was flat." Clint replied cynically, looking once again at Phil. "You've got to live in the times."

Phil was unfazed, and checked his watch. "I'm living in the time right now- I'm actually late for an important meeting with the 'great' Tony Stark."

Clint pulled a sympathetic face. "That billionaire? I've seen him on the TV. The guy's a nightmare."

"But," Phil added steadily, "S.H.I.E.L.D could use his genius. Which is why I have to go." Despite his cheery attitude, his voice held no enthusiasm, and as he turned to leave he clapped Clint on the back. "Good luck with Black Widow."  
"Who?" Clint said blankly, with a hint of surprise in his voice. Phil shrugged. "That's what they call her. Even Commander Fury is doing it."

"Odd." Clint mused. "She's not really like a spider…."

"But deadly like a black widow." Phil said seriously, swiveling to face Clint again, despite his lateness for his meeting. "Whatever thing you have for her~"

Clint began to protest loudly against this statement, but the other man cut him off impatiently. "Whatever it is, Clint… don't underestimate her and definitely don't trust her. She may have sworn herself to S.H.I.E.L.D's cause, but we've had double agents before."

"And dealt with them accordingly." Clint replied confidently, casting aside his worries.

"None of them were as skilled as Natasha Romanoff. Watch your back. I'd hate to have to find someone to replace you- interviewing people is an absolute pain in the ass." Phil left this time, his footsteps echoing throughout the hall. Clint was relieved; this drilling was the last thing he needed right now. When his comlink beeped, he sighed in disgust and gingerly pressed the button, holding his ears. "Hill?"  
"No. Me." Fury's flat tone registered, but Clint, tired and drained, felt the need to act difficult. "Who's me? Me me being the garbage man, or?"  
"Shut up, Barton. That's an order." Fury snapped, and Clint snapped a mock salute.

"I have a mission for you. Barton, have you ever been to Budapest..?"


End file.
